My Favorite Accident
by nuclear so and so's
Summary: College was supposed to be different. She was supposed to have Brittany, a car, and her head on straight. Instead she had Blaine upstairs, his car in the parking lot, and a phone that wasn't supposed to ring. But really, was that so bad?
1. Chapter 1

**I'm sorry if this is a little slow going, but I feel like I have to explain a lot of the backstory before we get into the actual story, so this is pretty much going to be a lot of that and not much of anything else. I promise it'll get interesting though, so please PLEASE comment/like/review!**

* * *

><p>Graduating from high school had always been the plan, and getting the fuck out of Lima had always been the plan, no matter what other people might have thought from the girl who was born and raised in Lima Heights Adjacent. She didn't know what they had expected her to do- work a shitty job at Walgreens, blow the manager in the back for some days off, start selling weed or prostituting herself or, as Rachel Berry once very sweetly pointed out, work on a stripper pole, but none of those things would be coming to fruition.<p>

Admittedly, even Santana had no idea what exactly she was going to do with herself when it came time to get out of high school, but she had been sure of three things- she would go to some sort of college, she'd get the fuck out of Lima, and she'd be taking Brittany with her, wherever it was. Two out of three wasn't bad, in retrospect.

It was time to start over. It was time to forget the Santana of Lima. It was time to stop hiding who she really was. With the help of Ms. Pillsbury, she'd secured an amazing scholarship to a state university. No one there would know what she'd done in her life; it was a complete fresh start, a chance to see what she could do out on her own. She'd been dying for the moment to come for months. It was like shedding her summer skin and starting fresh.

She had managed to wrangle Puckerman into making the drive down with her to haul her piles of boxes up to her dorm, and the entire car trip was filled with sexual tension (from Puck) and a serious need to get the fuck out of that car (from Santana). Still, she needed someone's help, and Puck had to put those stupid obnoxious muscles to use sometime. She had been deftly aware of what he would be expecting, and so she had quickly shot that down.

"Puck, you're not getting laid for this." she told him over the phone as she walked across her room, haphazardly folding things and stuffing them into bags. Everything she owned would be going with her, just in case she didn't want to look back.

"Whatever you say, San." had been his response, and she could literally _hear _the way he didn't believe it in his voice. He thought that he'd get to christen her new bed or something, and while that might have happened years ago, there was no way.

Even if it should have been awkward, Santana had long ago fallen into this pace with Puckerman, and they had reached an awkward understanding where sex was no longer something that needed to be hidden, but was openly made known and often discussed. It was just, for once, she wasn't interested.

She was glad that she only lived on the second floor of her dorm- she wouldn't have to take the elevators that smelled like piss and that looked like they were dying to go crashing down and kill her, and she was closer to the lobby, which meant closer to the vending machines when she was up too late and needed a caffeine fix.

Shuffling tons of boxes into the elevator, Puck leaned against it before winking at a girl standing nearby as the doors shut. Immediately, Santana was rolling her eyes.

"Really, Puckerman? Did you agree to this so you could hit on the hot college chicks?"

He looked over and gave her a one-shoulder shrug, almost challenging her to be surprised, and she really couldn't be, all things considered.

Shuffling to her door she used the key and, despite a little extra work, it opened and reveled her room to her. Her scholarship included a little extra money, so she had a private dorm- two beds, no sharing her food, no dealing with someone she'd probably want to kill- it was worth the extra grand she'd dropped.

Immediately she was extracting things from boxes, slapping Puck's hand when he tried to go through her underwear, giving his opinions on which ones she should wear and which ones she should not, and directed him on how to push the beds together and where to set her TV. After an hour or so the two of them crashed on her newly-made queen bed, Puck already fucking it up by digging into a slice of pizza and spilling sauce on the comforter.

Santana immediately gave him a look of disgust, scooping it up with her finger and rubbing it against his shirt. "Alright, you've officially overstayed your welcome." she mumbled, grinning at him as she grabbed him by the wrist and attempted to pull him up and off the bed. It took much coercion when Puck realized he really wasn't getting laid and an agreement to give him the entire pizza box before she had him back downstairs and out the door.

Trudging back up the stairs, Santana was ready to crash. She knew she had a floor meeting the next day, but the rest of the evening was free, and she could spend it staring out her windows, hoping to subconsciously soak in where all the buildings were so she wouldn't look like _that_ girl the next morning. Just as she was wondering if she should maybe look it up online and attempt to find a bookstore the next morning, she stuck her key in the lock and it didn't budge.

Furrowing her eyebrows, she pulled the key back out and gave it another attempt. No dice. She swore loudly, glad no one else was in the area to see how incredibly embarrassing this was. Of course, the moment she's alone in a huge city she's never been to something like this would happen and fuck her up. Skipping back down the steps, she drummed her nails against the front desk as she explained her problem. The RA took her key and left her standing there, waiting for what felt like hours before she finally returned.

"Your key's broken." she said flatly, as if this was to be expected.

'Oh, no big deal, I'll just sleep on the floor then, I don't need any of my clothes or money or anything.' Santana thought to herself, giving the girl a look that clearly showed how she felt about the circumstances.

"We called the locksmiths, but they're backed up today with all the moveins. They should be here in about two or three hours." she added, already clicking away on her computer, not meeting Santana's eyes.

"Two or three _hours?_" Fuck. Of course this was the way things were going to go. She finally started to think things were going her way, she got a scholarship to a huge university and a private room and she never had to go back to Lima again, she never had to talk to her parents again and here she was, and she didn't even have a room and-

"Santana?" Whipping her head around, hands on her hips, her eyebrows furrowed as she saw who was standing in front of her, looking positively different than she had ever seen him. Blaine Warbler, in the flesh, in sweatpants, carrying a box that looked much too heavy.

There were so many things wrong with this picture.

"Blaine Warbler?" she demanded, one hip jutting out as she licked her lips. Despite the fact that he had transferred from Dalton and had graduated with her, Santana had never stopped assuming his last name was Warbler- or she didn't care to find out what it was.

Immediately he gave her a look, one that signified that he knew she knew his name wasn't Blaine Warbler, and she ignored it.

"Look, just come upstairs and hang out with me until they call you for your key." He said calmly, and she almost wanted to roll her eyes. He had always been overly courteous; he had always cared too much about other people.

One part of her wanted to ignore this. Stubborn to a fault, she wanted to sit right in front of her door and cross her arms until someone appeared with her key and she could go back to pretending that she had left all of Lima behind. But what choice did she have?

"Yeah, okay." she said lamely, giving the woman behind the desk a look that could set her on fire before she followed Blaine, rather grudgingly, toward the elevators.


	2. Chapter 2

Digging her nails into her palms, Santana waited for Blaine to start firing questions at her- why had she never mentioned she was going away to college? Why was Puckerman the one carrying her things in instead of her family? What had happened to Brittany?

But the questions never came. It seemed that, unlike most people, Blaine was perfectly content to live in silence instead of filling the elevator up with awkward moments or unnecessary conversation neither of them cared about. With a ping they were greeted to the eighth floor, and Blaine walked wordlessly to his door, setting down the huge box he was carrying, undoing the lock and then holding the door open for Santana to step in, still always the gentleman.

Sitting down on the corner of his bed, she crossed her legs and looked around, noticing that he had a private, too. Watching as he started shuffling things out of the box- random things, like his guitar and a poster for a band Santana had never heard of- she said, "So, you got a private too? I figured it was easier than living with some bitch who ate all my food or something- same thing for you?" she gave him a half smile, watching as he ran his palms against his sweatpants and shrugged, not making eye contact with her.

"Yeah, you could say that." he mumbled, situating the poster to make sure it was perfectly even. There was a pause in conversation then, and he moved to sit in the chair beside of his desk. Santana couldn't help but think that he really must have been scared to get near her if he wouldn't share a queen-sized bed with her mushed into one of the corners.

This was more than a little awkward. The two of them had been friends when he transferred schools- they had even had a few duets together, and found themselves gravitating toward each other in group settings. But it was obvious, an imperceptible feeling in the air, that the two of them were both hiding something and neither wanted to be the one to point it out.

So much for starting over completely fresh.

Santana couldn't just sit in the silence for hours, so she figured she might as well get the awkwardness over with. "How come you never mentioned you were coming here?" she asked, and he looked up at her and grinned.

"How come YOU never mentioned you were coming here?" he shot back, and she made a face. She always knew that he was one of the only people who would try to remind her she wasn't in charge.

"You first." she responded, raising her eyebrows, not caring that she sounded like a little kid.

"Wasn't completely sure until about a week ago... I had other plans." He said finally, and she knew that there was something there that she was missing, and she'd have to figure out what later. It felt like bad karma to pounce on him when he had been so nice to her... No matter how badly she hadn't wanted to accept the kindness. "What about you?" he added, and she grinned.

"Oh, you know. Didn't want to jinx it, I guess." That was a more honest answer than she'd intended, and she was suddenly rethinking being in this room. Blaine's courtesy and charm was bringing out the best in her, which she always felt like was the worst thing to show to the general public.

"Where's Brittany?" he asked, attempting to look her in the eyes, but she refused to meet them.

"Fuck if I know." she snapped, and she waited patiently for him to change the subject, but when he didn't, she added half-heatedly, "Lima." Saying it made it worse, and she wanted to counteract it. "Where's Kurt?"

"New York." Blaine said with a definiteness in his voice. Santana had always been good at reading people- he said it like he was prepared for the question and had braced himself to answer.

"Oh." she mumbled, looking down at her fingernails again. She had always heard that Kurt and Rachel wanted to run off to New York and attack the broadway world, but she never actually expected them to _do_ it- and she had never expected Blaine to say in Ohio while Kurt went off to New York, for that matter.

Maybe that was what Blaine was thinking- he never expected Santana to leave Brittany behind. But to be fair, she had never expected that either.

Santana had expected putting Blaine on the spot to make her feel better, but in reality, she thought maybe both of them felt a little worse.

"I have to... I have to go to the store." he said suddenly, looking around. "I have no food." he was trying to be funny, she knew, but following his eyes she realized he literally didn't have any food. "You can come if you want, I dunno if you need anything..."

What Santana needed was her car back. What Santana needed was for her goddamn key to work, for Puckerman to have not fucked up her sheets, for Brittany to not still be in Lima, and for Blaine Warbler to not be so nice to her.

"Yeah, actually." she stood up, stretching like she'd been sitting there for hours. "That sounds like a good idea."

* * *

><p>His car was a Jetta. Cute but not too fancy, pretty plain compared to the truck she had spent so much time with Puckerman in. When he turned his car on some Indie acoustic song started playing through the speakers- something real schmaltzy that sounded like the kind of thing you hear in a coffee shop or in an extra pretentious bookstore. She liked that instead of being embarrassed about it, he turned the music down so he'd be able to hear her if she decided to speak and left it at that.<p>

Immediately, she did a good job of making herself comfortable, kicking off her shoes and sticking her feet up in the dashboard, waiting for him to protest. He didn't. Instead he looked over at her and grinned, turning back to look at the road as if nothing had happened.

"I bet you don't let people stick their feet up in _your_ car." he teased conversationally. Santana wiggled her toes as she looked over to him, thinking over what she wanted to say.

"My car is in Lima, so I'm sure my Mom is sticking her feet all over it as we speak." she didn't want to sound bitter, but she knew he did, and she knew this was an opening to ask why she didn't have her car. He didn't take it, and she was grateful. Instead he started humming along to the music, expertly navigating his way through the city, and she closed her eyes and silently appreciated the calm atmosphere she had been placed in.

* * *

><p>"I don't think anyone needs that much nutella, Santana." Blaine teased as Santana threw three jars into the cart. Turning to him, she scowled.<p>

"If I can't have liquor, I will have nutella. Second-best option." she explained, and to her, this was perfectly logical.

Shopping with Blaine was quickly turning into this- both of them teasing each other about their weird purchases, praising each other for the things they happened to have in common. It was weird to Santana how easily they were falling into a pace, as if this wasn't just one day where he was helping her keep her head above water.

Once they were back to the car and had piled up the trunk with all the junk, Santana took her spot back in the front seat, feet on the dash, and watched as he weaved in and out of passing cars.

"How the hell do you know your way around here so well?" she asked, completely amazed. It was like he'd lived there all his life.

Blaine shrugged, as if he never really thought about it. "I came here a lot for football games, ever since I was a kid. You learn your way around."

Santana furrowed her eyebrows. "You like football?" she asked, sitting up a little straighter. This amazed her. It wasn't a gay stereotype- Blaine just didn't seem the type.

"There's a lot you don't know about me. Santana." he told her, and he was smiling while he said it, but all the same, she took it as a challenge.

"Wanna go to the bookstore with me tomorrow?" The words tumbled out of her mouth before she had even realized they were there. She didn't know why she asked, she didn't even know if she'd regret it in the morning, but it was there and it couldn't be THAT bad, right?

"I'm not buying you lunch or anything, but alright."

"Fuck you."

* * *

><p><strong>PLEASE review! It means a lot to me and gives me inspiration to keep going!<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

The bookstore was a mess. With all the new students finally getting to campus, the place was hot with body heat and had a constant rushed feel that made Santana feel incredibly closed in on. Multiple male employees walked up to her in attempts to help her, and Blaine stood nearby and snickered as she shrugged each of them off in turn, instead walking along the shelves to pile the heavy books in her arms herself. He followed her around dutifully for a little while; she figured that he was making sure she wasn't going to get sick of carrying all her books and dump them on him, but after a little bit he disappeared within the shelves to get his own books.

Just as she was getting herself lost in the rows upon rows of books for English classes, she heard her phone ringing in the back pocket of her shorts. Tongue between her teeth, she made a face as she put all the books down between her feet and slid the phone out of her pocket, taking a deep long breath when she saw who was calling.

It wasn't late enough for her to be drunk, so she must have just been acting crazy, Santana decided as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, feeling the phone vibrate in her hands. She didn't move- instead, she counted the rings until they finally stopped, before she put her phone back in her pocket. Brittany knew better than to call- she had been the one who had made the rule. Santana groaned, running her hand through her hair and counting to ten again before she opened her eyes and bent back down to grab her pile of books off the floor.

It was when she was nearing the register that she finally crossed paths with Blaine again. He stood behind her as they made their way through the line, Santana refusing to make eye contact or talk to him despite his casual attempts to strike up conversation while they waited. She could feel her phone going off in her back pocket again, and there was no way she'd look at it. Once they were finally through the line and out the door, now carrying a box of books instead of just having to situate them in her arms, Santana groaned and Blaine looked over at her box, then down at his own, as if attempting to figure out if he could carry both.

"We're getting fucking wasted tonight." she declared, and since she knew he would attempt to protest, she didn't make eye contact as she attempted to lug her heavy box toward his car.

* * *

><p>"How the hell did you manage to get these?" Blaine couldn't help but ask her; she had demanded that he drive her to the liquor store and that he not worry about how she'd manage it, but that she'd come back out with beer and sure enough, she had. Carting more than would be necessary to get them drunk, she stuffed some in his book box and some in hers, so that no one would notice.<p>

Santana turned to look at him once she was finished with her work, wiping her hands against each other as she raised an eyebrow. "Have we met? I always get what I want."

Blaine immediately rolled his eyes, waiting until she had her seatbelt on before he was driving back toward their building. "Seriously though, it takes more than being Santana Lopez to manage that."

"If you MUST know my secrets," she joked, immediately propping her feet up on the dashboard again, "a fake ID and a nice pair of tits will get you pretty much everything in a big city."

"Oh, good, I'll remember that in case I ever need to get a tire changed or something. Should really come in handy."

* * *

><p>Bottles lay scattered around them on the floor- both Blaine and Santana were sitting sprawled out, their legs bent in random places, Blaine leaning against his bed and Santana leaning forward, one elbow on her knee and her head on her hand. Talking Blaine into sneaking the bottles into the building had been easy enough compared to talking him into actually <em>drinking<em> them. She knew that he wasn't against drinking, it seemed that his only concern was that the two of them would be drunk and alone and had a penchant for getting themselves into trouble, and really they had _just_ gotten to school. The only way Santana could manage to coerce him was to agree to play "Never have I ever", a game she was painfully bad at since she had already pretty much covered all her bases. The only way she'd gotten Blaine was when she got sick of playing fair and started spouting off things like "never have I ever been a man" or "never have I ever used a ridiculous amount of gel in my hair".

"Tell me what happened with Kurt." she said suddenly, sitting up straighter and licking her lips as she watched his face for a reaction. They were both drunk, but they weren't trashed- they were drunk enough to have this conversation but not quite drunk enough to think they'd forget it the next morning. She couldn't help it; she wanted to know.

"Tell me what happened with Brittany." he countered back, sitting up a little straighter and meeting her eyes.

There was no way in hell it was going down like _that. _"Tell me what happened with Kurt." she said again, crossing her arms.

The past few days of their friendship had definitely been confusing; though they had never really been best friends in high school, they had surely been close. But it seemed that both of them had gone to school with the intention of never seeing the other again, and not because of anything the other had done, but because it was all a part of the big picture, these things they were trying to run away from. They wanted rid of all of it, and they had both been willing to cut each other off to make sure that happened- and yet here they were.

She watched as he stared at her for a minute, grabbing his current bottle and taking a long drink before he put it down against the tile a little harder than she expected, and suddenly, It was like the flood gates had opened and Blaine couldn't hold back.

"It was always my dream to come to this school." he started, rubbing his hands against his jeans again- Santana was beginning to notice this was a nervous gesture of his. "I know that's stupid, because in the long run, it's not ivy league or anything..." he let out a nervous laugh, and he looked away from her to look out the window. "But it was always my dream. I just always knew in my head this is where everything would work out... I knew that I would figure everything out here. You know, everyone seems to think... Because I'm attracted to men, you know, and I've always been honest about that, that it just comes so easily to me. Kurt always assumed that, too. That because I was out I didn't face the same kind of shit he had to deal with. It's not that easy, you know? Sometimes... Sometimes I'm not so sure of myself. And I felt like if I came here it would fall into place. I wanted to be here. I _needed_ to know if this was it."

Here he was, spilling his guts to her, and she had no idea what to say. Maybe she wasn't supposed to say anything, so she waited.

"Kurt wanted to go to New York, he wanted to be on Broadway. We always knew that... That was his plan and I've always been supportive of that, every step of the way I did anything I could to help him. But one day I realized... He just... He assumed that I was going too, you know? He never asked what I wanted. He never asked what my plans were, what I wanted to do with my _life._ He assumed that I would just follow him there like a lost puppy and what... Be his personal assistant?

That's when the fights started. First I was pissed off on principle, that he just assumed I'd trail along after him, and then I realized it was bigger than that. What WOULD I do if I were to follow him there? Work in a grocery store or something? Go to a college I didn't even want? I wanted _here._ I couldn't explain it to him, so he didn't get it, but I needed to be here." Blaine ran a hand through his hair, pressing his lips together for a second. Santana had to think that once he started, he couldn't stop; that he had been dying to talk about this for a long time.

"I tried to tell him, you know, that I couldn't go with him. There was nothing for me there. He doesn't get it because he looks at that city with these rose-colored glasses... He was always telling me that there was something there for EVERYONE. That wasn't the point. I was going to just constantly be upset there. It isn't for me, it isn't what I wanted. So we kept fighting, and in the end neither of us would give up our dreams for the other person, and I don't regret that. I mean, what kind of person would I be if I put my whole life on hold for another person? I'd be stupid. So when he realized I wouldn't be going with him, when he realized that I wasn't willing to put my future on hold to help him with his future, well..."

So there it mystical answer to the end of Kurt and Blaine, and Santana had asked but she had absolutely no idea what to say. She knew she just couldn't leave him hanging like that, though.

"I can't talk about Brittany yet." she said suddenly, looking over at him for the first time in a few minutes. Blaine opened his mouth to talk, and she held up her index finger to stop him. "I think it's really cool that you can say it, just put it out there to the cosmos... Brittany called me today and I nearly had a goddamn heart attack... I'm sorry shit didn't work out, but honestly? Fuck that, man." she suddenly desperately wanted a cigar, and she wished she could smoke in the building. "He wouldn't have come here for you, so don't feel bad that you couldn't go there for him. It's the same thing. Just because you're not running around gobbling up Tony awards or whatever, this is what you wanted and he didn't respect that, so fuck him."

Both of them stopped talking then; both of them were attempting to finish off their bottles. Santana knew there had to be something else she should have been saying, but she couldn't figure out what. She had to give him something though, to make him feel less like he was just standing out there all alone.

"My parents took away my car because I told them I like women." she mumbled, not making eye contact with him again. "They want nothing to do with me now, which is no loss for me, but it is a loss on the car front. Pillsbury got me this totally bomb scholarship so my Dad isn't paying for shit. I'm done with them, and I'm glad. You should've seen my Dad's face when I tried to explain to him that sometimes you can't help who you fall in love with." she started laughing then, and she knew it sounded bitter, but how could she help it? All those people in her life telling her to be herself, and she takes one step in that direction to the people who were supposed to always love her and it blew up in her face.

"So you're... So you're a lesbian then?" he asked, leaning forward so he was closer to her, and she wondered how long he had been waiting to ask. No one was stupid enough to just _ask_ Santana Lopez a question like that one, but she knew everyone had always assumed there was something big going on with Brittany.

"I don't know what I am." she concluded, looking up at the ceiling. "I've learned that I can fall in love with a woman, and I know for a fact that I can be _sexually attracted_ to both men and women... So where does that leave me? I haven't had enough time to explore all the options."

"Explore all the options." he reiterated, nodding his head as he looked out the window. "Yeah, I get that. Exploring your options."

She honestly hadn't meant to say any of this, and she wanted to blame it on the beer but she knew that while she was drunk, she wasn't drunk enough to go flying off the handle. It was just the way Blaine made her think and act- even she, the ice queen of Ohio, couldn't ignore the fact that Blaine Warbler was the kind of guy you trusted with your life from day one. And maybe it was taking her longer than just day one, but she was getting there, and she was absolutely terrified.


	4. Chapter 4

**I know it's been a long time since I updated, and I'm not sure if anyone is still interested, so if you are PLEASE review so I'm aware of it! Otherwise I'm going to assume most people have moved on since I've been gone for ages. Let's see how things go!**

* * *

><p>After Blaine explained his falling out with Kurt, it felt like their friendship was in limbo. She knew she owed him a story about Brittany, but not even she had figured out all the details quite yet; talking about it would hurt too much, and so while it seemed they were getting closer every day, there still stood a barrier between them, and it hung in the silences that sometimes followed their conversations.<p>

Still, things moved on, and Santana began to begrudgingly realize how glad she was to have Blaine not only at her school but in her building. He'd call her every morning so she'd roll out of bed to get breakfast with him, and they'd sit in the corner of the large dining area every morning, Blaine digging into a pile of pancakes and Santana watching with disgust, sipping at Starbucks coffee and ignoring the casual stream of men that seemed to gravitate near their table.

"They're trying to get you to talk to them, San." Blaine explained, a lopsided grin on his face as he motioned a pancake-covered fork in the general direction of the closest table.

"That's ridiculous." she scoffed, picking at the side of her cup. "I just woke up and rolled out of bed. I didn't even have time to brush my hair before you dragged me down here. I didn't even put pants on."

Blaine raised his eyebrows and shrugged. "I don't think they mind that much..."

Santana knew she was attractive, but it seemed she was getting a lot more attention now that she was in college. Maybe it was because none of those guys knew who she really was? Maybe they were looking for one night stands? Either way, she wasn't interested. "How do you know they're not checking you out?" she shot back.

"I'm not the one they're giving the eyes."

She turned her head slightly, looking skeptical. "The eyes."

"You heard me." Blaine wiped a napkin across his lips, leaning back and looking around at the tables surrounding them. "How do you not realize how many people think you're aesthetically pleasing? Everywhere we go people are sizing you up like you're in a butcher's window at a deli."

Santana immediately laughed. "Are you fucking kidding? Did you just call me a slab of meat?"

"I calls em as I sees em." He joked, and he immediately dodged the wadded up napkin she tried to throw into his face.

* * *

><p>School had started, and somehow the two of them had managed to end up in the same biology class. It had 300 people, no attendance, and a droning professor who put all his lectures online. All this put together meant Santana spent her morning finishing her starbucks and trying to memorize her class schedule, feet in Blaine's lap as he scribbled notes.<p>

"You don't have to do that." she told him lazily, running her finger along a crease in her map. "The whole thing's online Blaine, you're wasting your time. We should've slept in." It wasn't that Santana didn't take her education seriously- she just saw no reason to waste her time.

"I'm an auditory learner." he stated, explaining this slowly as if she were a small child, and she couldn't help but grin. "And you know what?" he added, raising his eyebrows and turning to look at her, only a hint of a grin on his face. "I'm definitely not letting you borrow my notes before exam time."

* * *

><p>After Blaine disappeared for a philosophy class, Santana trudged across campus, mentally checking out the buildings and how they corresponded to the map she had tried to permanently burn into her retinas. Still feeling a bit proud of herself for not having to ask anyone how to get there, she slid herself into a seat in the second row, put down her bag and stretched out. All in all, things could be a lot worse, she reminded herself.<p>

"This is honor's english, right?" the voice penetrated her thoughts and Santana blinked, looking toward the source. The girl was blonde, tall, and with hips and legs for days. Immediately she felt her throat constrict and she swallowed, hard. A million memories of a girl with blonde hair and legs for days flew out of the recesses of her brain and into the forefront of her mind. Subconsciously, her foot snaked along under the desk to give a small kick to her bag, willing it not to ring. If it did, she would've answered.

"Y... Yeah. Sorry, yeah." She mumbled, and she tried to give her a grin, but it didn't work the way she wanted, and instead she pursed her lips and looked down, squinting her eyes, trying to see if she could remember any of the things Blaine had been scribbling in biology. Anything to distract her.

* * *

><p>Santana had curled herself up in bed, drinking hot chocolate and trying to find something to do with her evening when she felt her phone buzzing near her feet. Digging her phone out from under her blankets, she let out a gust of air and closed her eyes, counting to ten. Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck fuck. When she felt the buzzing stop, she opened her eyes again and stared at the "voicemail" sign that had appeared. Fuck fuck fuck.<p>

She stood up, grabbed her keys and walked out the door, not even bothering to put her shoes on. One hand on her hip she glared at the elevator, willing it to hurry to her floor before she slipped inside, slamming the button over and over, eyebrows furrowed. As the elevator pinged she crossed the floor in quick strides, reaching her destination and slamming her fist against the door.

Blaine pulled it open, hair damp from a shower, one eye closed as he wiggled a washcloth in his ear to get rid of the water. "Santana?"

"I need you to listen to this." She reached her hand out, showing him the "voicemail" sign. "Anderson, I need you to listen to this and tell me if she's dead or something, because she knows she's not supposed to call and I can't listen to her voice. Just ignore everything else and tell me if she's dead."

Hesitantly and completely confused, Blaine took the phone from her hands and slid his thumb over the screen, bringing the phone to his ear as he waited for Brittany's voice to fill his ear.


	5. Chapter 5

She sat with her hands folded in her lap, facing forward, staring at the wall. If it were any other situation, maybe he would've laughed, or told her she looked cute, or told her she looked like an ass. It was serious, though, and so how could he joke? Instead he put her phone in his lap, not looking at it but instead looking at her, waiting for her to say something.

She bit her lip. "Well?" she demanded, not taking her eyes from the wall. Blaine watched her, head cocked to the side. He wasn't sure what to tell her and what not to tell her. To him, most of what Britt had just said had been gibberish.

"I..." he started, running a hand through his hair. "I don't really know the rules here." he admitted with a nervous laugh. He felt a little silly, given the situation. If Santana would just explain it to him, maybe he could help.

"Is she dead?" she said it loudly, trying to talk over him, even though he had stopped talking a few seconds before. "I'm guessing she's not. Is her house on fire? Did her car break down? Was she stoned?"

"Um..." Blaine was still unsure of how to work with this- he didn't want to make things harder for Santana, but he didn't know how to talk to her when she was like this. She was clearly distraught- she sat straight as a pin, eyes forward, only her lips moving when she talked. The usual flippant nature with which she delivered her words was gone, and they cut like glass through his bedroom. "Let's see. No, no, no... No? Did I miss one?"

She visibly relaxed, sighing and closing her eyes. Blaine could see her lips moving, though her words were silent. She stood up, looking down to smile."I don't even have shoes on." she mumbled, turning to look at him, hands on her hips. "I'll see you for breakfast tomorrow, okay?" she mumbled, her words almost coming off as timid. It was the smallest Blaine had ever seen her, and he had no idea how to react.

"Do you want me to tell you what she-?" he started, reaching forward to hand her back her phone.

"I don't want to know." she said decidedly, more telling herself than him, he guessed. She reached forward, her fingers closing around his for just a second before she pulled her phone away and stuck it in her back pocket. "Listen..." she started, then she changed her mind. "It's crazy, right? Life. College. Not being in Lima any more."

"Things are definitely... Different." he mused, his mouth turning up in a lopsided grin.

* * *

><p>It surprised him how well he had begun to make new friends. Maybe it was the lack of gel in his hair, maybe it was opening himself up more. Maybe it was a big city filled with people, or maybe it was just life, but suddenly it didn't feel like he was spending all his time with Kurt and Kurt's friends. Well, of course he wasn't spending time with Kurt... Shaking his head, he tried to keep the thought of him out of his mind. It didn't matter. None of it, not all that time he had spent with him, mattered. Kurt had made sure of that.<p>

There were a few guys in his building he was getting to know pretty well, though, and he was really enjoying himself. He'd decided to spend the weekend down in the lobby, watching a football game and cracking jokes with a few of the guys he had started to get to know. Things were looking up. His major was great, his new friends were great, college was great, and Santana...

He could hear his phone going off in the cushions of the couch. He popped up, digging through the cushions until he retrieved it, confused when he saw Santana's name appear. It was late and they hadn't spoken much over the past few days outside of their usual meetups. Holding his finger out to tell everyone he'd be right back, he walked a little further away to keep away from the noise of the television.

"San?" he asked, confused by the dull thumping he could hear in the background.

"Blaine! Blaine! Oh, thaaaank fuck." she grumbled, exasperated. "I need you to come pick me up." There was a rustling, followed by a pause. "Seriously, you need to go sit over there. Oooover there... You see?"

Blaine groaned. "Where are you? How did you get there?"

"Girl from English came and picked me up... And I can't fuckkking find her." There was a crashing noise and Santana groaned. "This guy won't leave me the fuck alone. Can you just come get me please? I'll give you gas money and take you to Taco Bell."

"You're drunk."

"Yes."

"Text me the address."

* * *

><p>Twenty minutes of circling a crowded houseparty trying to find a place to park without smashed beer glasses and people making out too close, he made his way inside and kept his eyes locked on anyone that could resemble her. After a significant amount of sighing and knocking people out of his way, he saw her curled up in the corner, clutching a bottle of tequila to her chest like it was her life support. No matter how annoyed he was, he couldn't help but laugh. He made his way toward her just in time to see a guy putting his hand on her shoulder. Immediately she swatted him away.<p>

"C'mon, San." he said as loudly as he could manage, hoping the guy would get the hint. He reached his hand forward and Santana seemed to consider it, staring at it and then down at her bottle of tequila, trying to make a decision. "You called me." he reminded her.

"You her boyfriend?" the guy asked, leaning forward. Blaine stepped back a little. He smelled like straight liquor and while Blaine could probably kick his ass, he really didn't feel like it.

Instead, he weighed his options. If he said yes, maybe he'd back off. But probably not. "I'm gay." he said decisively, grabbing Santana's wrist and pulling her up. "Let's go, drunky." Immediately she leaned against him, and he wrapped an arm around her side, making sure she didn't fall on her ass.

He had her in the car and with her seatbelt on before she spoke again, kicking her heels off and sticking her feet on the dashboard. "She broke up with me, you know." she said pointedly, turning to look at Blaine as he drove.

He wanted to be annoyed. Really, he did. But how could he blame her? When he thought about Kurt he wanted to run off to some shitty house party and hoard a bottle of tequila himself. Instead, he sighed and tried to suppress a smile. "No, San, I didn't know that, actually."

Santana nodded her head, wiggling in her seat as she tried to get comfortable. "Yep, she did. So what right does she have to keep calling me? She's the one who said we couldn't fucking call, you know."

Blaine turned to look at her for a second. "I didn't know that, either. In fact, I didn't know she couldn't call."

"Nope!" Santana shook her head, running a hand through her hair. "We're not allowed. She said it would be better that way. Since when does she get to make any decisions? And where the hell does she get off breaking her own rules and leaving me voicemails?"

Blaine didn't have any of the answers to that, and he knew it didn't really matter. There was nothing he could do to help.

She fell asleep in the car, and so the people at the front desk wouldn't think he was dragging a lifeless girl to his bedroom, he shook her awake for long enough to get to the elevator. By the time they got there she was asleep again, and he wasn't about to fish through her pockets for her keys. Instead he took her upstairs to his room, put her on one side of the bed, put a trash can beside of it, and sat watching her for a moment, trying to figure out what to do next. He went into his bathroom to change before he moved her under the blankets, turning out the light.

In the dark, he ran his fingers through her hair. She was knocked out cold, she never noticed. He sighed and wished, more than ever, that he could be a better friend to her. He had a feeling she'd need it soon.


End file.
